Beyond the Edge
by demonsfangs
Summary: AWE SPOILERS post AWE, Elizabeth without Will. a sailor's wife and a pirate king. fancy how things turn out.
1. Dearly Departed

**writing this for a friend who asked me to, since she loves _Curiosity_ so much. Looks like it's going to be a long one, but i am ever so bad about updating... we'll see... enjoy the first segment.**

* * *

**Dearly Departed **

I watched as my husband died, as an old friend took my husband's sword and stabbed the heart of another man, beating alone in a trunk. I watched as my husband's heart was carved from his body and as his body was given life, of a sort, once more. I watched as he was announced as captain of the dreaded Flying Dutchman and as he turned to me and called for the crew to take him to shore for our long belated wedding night. And I watched as his ship sailed away without me and an eerie green flash lit up the horizon as my husband disappeared to fulfill the duty appointed to the captain of that godforsaken ship. And I knew that even as he went to ferry the souls of the dead, he took my soul with him, as good as dead, until he returned to me. And I knew, with as much surety, that his soul was beside me in the trunk on the sand; only able to be opened with the key that hung around my neck, and that that soul had lay at my feet for years.

* * *

The first year without him was the hardest. I missed him fiercely, the way a pirate misses the sea, the way a captain misses his ship… 

The way a wife misses her husband.

I returned home to Port Royal, forced to face my father's death once more, to settle his debts and sell the things I couldn't keep. But this time Will's strong arms weren't there to shelter me from the hurt; his callused hands weren't there to wipe tears from my eyes with my hair and I had no one to turn to for comfort. I tried to feel pride at introducing myself as Mrs. William Turner but instead there was a sense of aching loss, a place in my heart that lacked substance without him. I ignored the whispers and stares of the women who were never really my friends and hid away in my father's house surrounded by my father's things, missing the men stolen from my life.

It took a little more than two weeks to deal with my father's things. I couldn't leave Port Royal fast enough. I alternated between being absolutely ill with grief and being a smiling radiant bride whose wedding night had been every thing she had dreamed of and more. I dealt with it as best I could, trying not to count down the years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds until my husband's return.

"Nine years, 273 days and this afternoon, Jack", I would tell the fellow pirate. "Can you imagine how long it will be?"

"Long enuff, darling" he drawled, "but 'twill seem like yesterday when he appears, I imagine, and wiv enuff rum, he'll forget the wrinkles you'll've gained in the meantime."

I ignored him and kept a weather eye on the horizon, watching every sunset for the green flash of a departed soul, praying for a loophole that would bring Will back to me.

I had nightmares about Will's heart which I kept in a trunk under my bed. I could not stand to see his heart, beating without him, but I could not bear for it to be far from my side, for fear of the worst. I tried not to make the calculations in my head of how many more times would I see Will in this life. I tried not to imagine what would happen when I died. I missed him with heart and soul, hands, lips and eyes. My heart missed his love, my soul missed his spirit and my body missed all of him; his scent, his laugh, the gentle touch of rough hands, the scent of the sea in his hair and the passion in his smile. I missed him with every fiber of my being and I watched the sea, even as I knew his ship would not grace the horizon for many years to come.

I returned to the Black Pearl, gave up my captainship to a better man and settled with my friends. We rode the high seas and pillaged and plundered while every heartbeat brought me infinitesimally closer to Will.

Then one day, about a month after I had last seen my husband, I was seasick for the first time; it continued for weeks. And, slowly, my belly started to swell, my breasts ached in the mornings and the scent of rum sent me running to the privy. Ignorant as I was in the ways of women, my mother dead since I was a child, it took me a few weeks to dare to guess at the cause of my illness. I was elated, terrified and utter grateful even as I was surprised. But I had no one to tell. So I asked Captain Sparrow to return me to Port Royal and I spoke my news to my father's grave and hoped the briny breeze would carry my words to my love.

Life in town was not easy for me. I'd spent the better part of the past 2 years criss-crossing the sea. I was used to unkempt hair, filthy clothes and bronzed skin, calluses, damp feet and the sway of a hammock lulling me to sleep. I was accustomed to long days of boredom punctuated by brief bouts of danger and the people I knew, loved and trusted by my side through all of it. I missed Tia Dalma, (or Callipso if you wish). I missed Jack and Barbossa and their constant swaggering, swearing, bawdy jokes and arguments over the best course of action. I missed the sea herself and the sunlight on the morning that made a path from the sun to the ship. But most of all, I missed my pirate of a husband. Life in town was dull compared to the life on the seas. The Pirate code states that the Pirate King must actually be a pirate and when I retired to land, I retired the post as well. I had promises of visits from my friends from the Black Pearl, but the sea is a lusty siren who holds sailors close until they forget all else, and I do not expect many will find their route passing my island home. As my condition became more obvious, I withdrew from much of my social life, spending most of my days drawing careful maps and writing the story of my adventures on the sea

* * *

Will's son was born on a late April afternoon. The labor was easy and before dusk, I was holding the spitting image of Will as I had first seen him, only smaller, chubbier and completely and utterly mine. I wished that someone would come who could bear the news to Will and when young William was only eight weeks old, an early hurricane brought my wish. 


	2. New Arrivals

**Continued. I'm hoping to keep up with this, so far (knock on wood) it hasn't been that hard to write...  
**

* * *

**New Arrivals**

The sky had been a dull blue-gray for hours, the wind had been picking up until the waves were frothed with white and the sea had turned an angry purple. Young William was taking a nap and I was gathering the laundry, what little I'd managed to wash in the few hours while William slept. He was a happy baby but one who didn't seem to understand that night was for sleeping. I sighed and wandered about, tucking clothes pins into my hair and folding sheets and diapers as I pulled them off the line. An especially strong gust tore a sheet from my outstretched hands and it danced merrily away, over the hill, down to a salty death on the rocks of the cove. Frustrated, I wiped hair from my forehead and blinked sweat from my eyes.

And I kept blinking.

On the horizon, which minutes before had been clear of ships, most being tied down in the harbor in preparation for the coming storm, sat a sleek vessel with dark sails I could recognize from a mile away. Sails so ragged one often wondered how such a ship could gather wind. A ship whose timbers I knew like the back of my hand, like the lips of my lover, like the arms of a friend.

The Black Pearl.

* * *

I must have stood, basket in hand and jaw dropped for almost a minute before the sounds of William waking up reached my ears and brought me back to reality. I snatched the remaining clothes off the line, not even bothering to fold them, just tossing them into the basket and dashed into the house. I switched the basket for the fussing child and danced around my kitchen with him in my arms, wondering at how lonely I must have been to be so giddy at the arrival of my friends' vessel.

"They're here!" I yelped, utterly gleeful. "They're here, they're here, they're here! Thank God" I gulped down tremendous breaths and twirled around the lower floor of the house alternating between cooing at the baby and hugging him tightly to my chest, hoping desperately that news of my husband would arrive with the storm weary pirates.

As we swirled around the dusty floor, I hummed an old song from my pirating days, one I had learned as a child, one I had then taught to a pirate captain in a fit of rum-soaked madness thus dooming the crew to hear it sung in celebration for the next several years. Ad nauseum.

_We're rascals, scoundrels, villans and knaves.  
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!  
We're devils and black sheep, really bad eggs!  
Drink up me 'earties, Yo Ho!_

Finally, with my rush of happiness having run out, started a small fire in the kitchen hearth and settled the baby back into his cradle. I folded the laundry and returned everything to its proper places and then, on a hopeful, and perhaps desperate, hunch, made ready one of the smaller guestrooms. I didn't expect anyone to stay over, but pirates were an impromptu lot and one always did well to be prepared for anything when they were about.

I found myself sometime later, digging through an old sea chest and discovered within it my effects from the old sea-dog days. I plopped a weathered tri-corn hat onto my son's head and cuddled up next to him on the bed. It had been not even a year since I'd retired to land but I felt much older than I had then. I had since had a child; bought and moved into a house and learned most of the domestic chores the life of a pirate and a governor's daughter had not taught me. The new house, more of a cabin really, was on a high cliff and had a widow's walk, though I would never be a widow, from which the entire horizon was able to be viewed. You could see the most spectacular sunrises from up there…

I curled a protective arm around my boy and tickled his sides with an index finger. His happy laugh made me smile and his cobalt blue eyes had yet to darken into the eventual brown which I hoped would mirror his father's. I sighed and hauled myself up from the bed. The sight of the old ship had me reminiscing about the days when my life had taken that sudden daring plunge into the world of danger and freedom. To quote an old friend, it's remarkable how often those two traits coincide.

I bent down and slid a hand into the old trunk, running my fingertips over the cracked leather of my old sword scabbard and baldric. In a rusty, though well remembered, motion I drew the sword. I hefted it a few times to remind myself of its weight, twirled my wrists once or twice and ran my gaze down the blade, checking for flaws in the metal. The edge was still sharp and, excepting a small spot of rust which I mostly rubbed off with the hem of my dress, untarnished.

I grinned and tried a few slashes, remembering the many fights I had landed myself in with this sword. But sword-fighting takes strength and endurance and very good calluses, all of which I had practically left behind. A few fake parries and the sword felt as if it was made of lead and the skin on the sides of my fingers burned. I sighed once more and slammed the sword back in its scabbard. On a whim I buckled the baldric over my shoulder and grabbed the hat from dear William, who was happily sucking on the corner of the salt marked leather.

"Dashing, Will. Quite dashing…" I murmured as I moved down the steps and back into the kitchen. Rain had apparently started during my rummaging and was tapping insistently against the windows. I paused for a moment, the baby still in my arms and watched the stormy seas. I turned Will around, careful to keep his mouth away from my hat, to show him the sea. The storm's ferocity had increased and the waves were now a sickly color of indigo, green and gray.

I whispered in his ear, 'Your father's out there somewhere, baby boy. And mummy misses him so very much..." My voice trails off so I lay him down in his cradle and head off to make dinner, humming that godforsaken old song once more as I go.

* * *

After our meal, I built up the fire and settled into a chair for the air had grown uncommonly cold. The storm still raged outside and lightning flickered around the house. I knew that I made my way up to the widow's walk I would be able to see lightning far off at sea strike the waves. I prayed that the Black Pearl's crew was safe in the storm, preferably off the ship and hunkered down in several fine taverns or inns, downing copious quantities of rum and eyeing a pretty whore or two. 

Thinking of rum, I rose and hauled open the door to the cellar. I grabbed a candle, lit it with a slender piece of tinder and went down to decide if my rum stash would be able to withstand a pirate invasion.

After about 20 minutes of blowing dust off bottles to check dates, popping corks for test swigs and stumbling about in the dark, I clambered back up the stairs to the kitchen. I caressed the best bottle I had chosen with an aching thumb as I wiped a years worth of dust and grime from the label.

I put the bottle on the table and headed over to check on William and make sure he wasn't getting too warm, so close to the fire. As I bent over his cradle, a soft, slurred voice rose from the shadows near the door, "'e's the spittin' image of his father, it would seem… and 'ere's his mum dressed up to play pirate too…"

A startled breath found me with sword in hand whirling to face the intruder even as I recognized his voice; the voice that had first proclaimed me pirate.

"Jack Sparrow," I manage through gritted teeth as I eyed the soaking pirate for a long moment. He seemed no more inebriated than usual, though that didn't mean much. Normally I'd have kicked him out 'til he was sober, but knowing Jack, it could be a long while before he would be able to come back in. I sighed once more, "I've been expecting you, or someone else, ever since I saw the Pearl's sail on the horizon. What took you so long?"

He grunts and gives a lopsided grin which answers the question only all to well. "I thought to enjoy your lovely town's hospitality. You know I'm never one to say no to hospitality of any sort…"

I roll my eyes, sheathe my sword and balance my son on one hip. "C'mon into the kitchen… I've just brought up the rum... and don't drip everywhere."

"Ah, love, I knew there was a reason Will kept you 'round… 'Fore he left and all…"


End file.
